


Where the Love Light Gleams

by once_uponacaptain



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Christmas, F/M, Holidays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8629312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/once_uponacaptain/pseuds/once_uponacaptain
Summary: When Killian Jones offers to take in his neighbor Emma Swan over the holidays, the last thing he expects to receive is a Christmas he'll never forget. Based off of the prompt "Character A can’t travel to see their family on Christmas, so they invite their grumpy loner neighbor Character B."





	1. Day 1

Killian stood by the window and watched the snow come down in thick layers, just as it had been doing for most of the day. What many of Boston’s meteorologists had predicted to be a light snowfall had quickly turned into a complete whiteout. He could see from his second story apartment that nearly everything was covered in snow and ice, including the people that were still out in it for whatever odd reasons. He sighed as he stepped away from the window and picked up his cell phone. It was safe to say that his scheduled flight to London in the morning was most likely cancelled by now.

He first took a moment to call his brother to explain the unfortunate situation, regretting that he couldn’t make it for Christmas, but promising to rebook his flight as soon as the weather permitted. The next call was to the airport, which had cancelled all incoming and outgoing flights for the rest of the week as a safety precaution. Thankfully, after being on hold for almost half an hour, he was able to exchange his previously planned flight for one a week later, meaning he would at least get to spend New Years with Liam, if nothing else.

The real problem now was what to do with himself over the next few days. Most news and radio stations had suggested people not leave their homes unless absolutely necessary, which Killian and the rest of Boston that hadn’t left for the holidays would probably forgo by this time tomorrow out of boredom, desperation, or both. He cursed himself for waiting until the last minute to make traveling arrangements, which is why his planned flight wouldn’t have left until tomorrow, the twenty-third. Now, he was stuck spending Christmas with nowhere to go, little to do, and no one to do it with. All of his friends were out of town visiting their families, which means he wouldn’t have as much as a drinking buddy for the holidays. He wouldn’t have mind working the rest of the week, which was saying quite a bit considering he was among the group of employees at Mills Law Office that persuaded Regina to let them go a few days earlier for the holidays instead of on Christmas Eve as she had originally planned. At least being busy at the office would have kept him from moping at his apartment alone for the holidays. A very Merry Christmas indeed.

With few better options available to him, Killian soon found himself thoroughly cleaning the apartment, and then doing it all over again for good measure. He finally had the time to finish a rather large book that he’d been working on for a few weeks now, but then found himself disappointed when it ended on a cliffhanger, and the author’s website gave no indication on when a sequel would be published. (Bloody hell, he muttered, tossing the book to the side.) He was on the verge of rearranging the spice rack in his kitchen out of utter boredom- at least Belle would be proud that he was putting her birthday gift to good use for once- when a loud banging noise followed by a muffled curse from the apartment next door got his attention. (The building’s walls were abnormally thin, which made things quite interesting when he lived next to couples.) He could tell the noise had come from Emma Swan’s apartment, the woman who’d moved in the building over the summer. They weren’t exactly friends, per se- the few times they’d interacted with one another, she seemed to want nothing to do with him- but he felt the need to check on her, regardless. It would make him feel pretty foolish if something had actually happened to her and he had chosen to ignore it altogether.

Five minutes later, he found himself knocking on Emma’s door. He waited for a moment, thinking she wasn’t going to respond, until he heard footsteps padding across the linoleum kitchen floor that was identical to his. The door swung open seconds later to reveal his neighbor, who looked to be bundled up in at least half of her winter wardrobe. “Can I help you?” she sighed, looking as if the last thing in the world she wanted to do at the moment was talk to him.

“I was going to ask you the same, love,” he replied. “I heard some kind of commotion and wanted to make sure everything was alright.” 

Emma laughed dryly. “Yeah, everything’s fine aside from the fact that my heater decided to go out the one week our landlord is out of town. Not that he would have helped much anyway,” she muttered under her breath; for someone who was in charge of an apartment complex, Leroy certainly wasn’t the most reliable person in the world.

“That’s quite unfortunate. Perhaps I could take a look at it?” Killian actually knew nothing about heaters aside from how to turn his on, but it didn’t hurt to offer at least. 

“Thanks, but it’s completely shot. I’m just gonna have to stay bundled up like this for the next few days since there’s a slim chance of anyone being able to fix it, what with Christmas and the nightmare outside,” she said, gesturing to the thick layers of clothing that were probably the only thing she had to stay warm.

She was most likely right about not being able to locate help, but he didn’t think it was a good idea to tell her so. “Don’t be so sure, Swan. There might be someone available to take care of it. Why don’t you come over and I’ll make you coffee while you try to find some help.” Killian partly expected her to say no. They didn’t know each other very well aside from brief conversations in the hallway, and she didn’t seem to be the type of woman that liked interacting with strangers.

Emma pursed her lips as she considered his proposal. “Because I’m freezing my ass off, I’m going to trust that you’re not a serial killer and take you up on that offer.” The smile on her face caught him off guard; it was a good luck for her, but not one that he’d seen before.

“Well, you’re in luck, Swan,” he told her as they entered his apartment. “Murder isn’t high up on my list of hobbies, and it’s not very festive, either. Now, how about that coffee.”

“My hero.”

Ten minutes later, she was sitting at his kitchen table, looking up appliance services on her phone and sipping a concoction that was much more sugar and milk than coffee. (“I have a sweet tooth; don’t judge me.”) Killian took the chair across from hers, his own drink in hand. “Any luck?”

“No.” She frowned at something on her phone screen. “Everyone was either already closed for the holidays, or had to close because of the storm. At this rate, I’ll probably be spending Christmas in the backseat of my car if I don’t want to catch hypothermia.”

“You don’t have plans with your family?” Despite the fact that they were all but strangers, he still hated the idea of Emma not having anyone to take her in until the heater was repaired.

“No family to have plans with.” She didn’t look up from her cup of coffee. “I had planned to celebrate with a bottle of wine and whatever’s next on my Netflix queue.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” he laughed. “But no talk about staying in your vehicle. You can stay here until someone can fix your heat; there’s plenty of room.”

“As much as I appreciate the offer, I couldn’t bother you like that,” she objected. “What about your Christmas plans?”

“Cancelled as well. I was going to visit my brother in London, but that’s not an option until next week.” She hadn’t said it, but he could tell she was definitely contemplating his offer. “Trust me, love, you wouldn’t be bothering me. It might be nice to have some company for Christmas, anyway.”

“Well…” she said after a moment, “Alright. You’re pretty convincing considering my only friends are out of town, and the heat in my car actually sucks.”

Killian could sense that he was possibly starting to win her over. He wasn’t expecting to become her new best friend by any means, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to be on good terms with someone who could very well be stuck in his apartment for several days at this rate. 

“So, Swan, you going to tell me something about yourself, or will I be forced to have a stranger for a temporary roommate?”

“Not much to tell. Emma Swan. Twenty-eight. Libra. Bail bondsman- er, woman, whatever you wanna call it. Been in the building almost five months. You?”

“Killian Jones. Thirty. Aquarius. Legal assistant. Two years.” 

“British, I’m assuming?”

“Aye. Came here after high school and have only been back on holidays ever since. Well, except this one, obviously.” He gestured to the snow still falling outside.

“Even though it sucks that you couldn’t fly over for Christmas, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that I’m glad you’re here with a working heat system,” she laughed.

“Of course. Had I not been around, you would not only have been deprived of warmth, but my company as well,” Killian noted, waggling his eyebrows sarcastically. 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh, the horror!”

At least she had a sense of humor. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad; he might have a friend by the time this was over with after all.

The two of them soon ended up in casual conversation. She didn’t have much to say at first, but slowly began to open up as he rambled on about a number of things, including Star Wars, Christmas carols (“What in the world is figgy pudding, anyway?” she asked “It sounds disgusting.”), and their jobs. He asked her questions about the bail bonds industry, how she got involved in her line of work, and was surprised to hear about some of the more unusual characters she’d taken down over the past few years. “Apparently the holidays seem like a great time to break the law,” she complained, shaking her head. “Idiots think they can skip bail and no one will notice because it’s Christmas.” 

In the middle of her rant on their building’s less than favorable parking services, Killian glanced at the clock above the stove; it was later in the evening that he’d thought. “You ready for dinner, Swan? I’m not much of a cook, but there’s probably something around here than I can throw together.”

“It’s okay, I’m not hu-” Emma started to protest until her growling stomach gave her away. “Okay, maybe I am a little hungry,” she admitted, her face reddening. “I don’t want you to go to much trouble, though. I’m already imposing on you by staying here, anyway.”

“You’re not imposing at all, love.” Killian rummaged through his cabinets and pulled out a box of noodles and a jar of pasta sauce. “How do you feel about spaghetti?”

“Who doesn’t like spaghetti?” she answered, standing up from the table. “At least give me something to do. But I’ll just go ahead and warn you, my cooking skills go as far as Ramen noodles, and maybe peanut-butter toast on a good day.”

He cringed in disapproval. “In that case, I’d insist you stay here even if your heater was working just to ensure you had a decent meal.”

Emma wasn’t lying; she really had no idea how to cook. After nearly burning herself twice just by boiling water, her job quickly turned into simply standing beside Killian at the stove and handing him whatever ingredients he needed. (“I have to carry a gun on a daily basis, you think I’d be able to do something in the kitchen without causing bodily harm.”)

After dinner was cooked and ready, Killian took the risk of spaghetti stains on the couch by suggesting they eat in front of the television. “I think we could both use some holiday entertainment tonight.” He turned on his flat screen and scrolled through the guide to see what was playing. “Is Home Alone alright with you, Swan?”

Emma shrugged, picking up a cluster of noodles with her fork. “I guess. I’ve never seen it before, so it doesn’t make much of a difference to me.”

Well that was surprising. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was under the assumption that it was high up on the list of American Christmas traditions.”

“I wouldn’t know. Foster kids usually aren’t included when it comes to Christmas traditions and whatnot,” she mumbled, staring down at the plate in her lap.

Although it was unintentional, Killian could tell by the expression on her face that he had hit a nerve. This bit of information brought on a whole new set of questions for him- none of which he was going to ask- and also answered a few not only regarding her lack of family, but her somewhat reserved behavior as well. “Well, I think you’re in luck,” he said, changing the subject as the title sequence began to play. “John Hughes rarely disappoints.”

Much to his relief, Emma relaxed within the first few minutes of the movie. She seemed to be enjoying it, rather than focusing on the potential discomfort his earlier question most likely brought on. She laughed at all the right moments, even choking a bit on her drink during the scene in which the burglars fall victim to Kevin’s traps. 

Killian found himself more than once admiring the sound of her laugh, not to mention the way her face lit up when she did it. Happiness looked good on her. But he also felt somewhat foolish for thinking so; he could be around an attractive woman without acting like an awkward teenage boy with a crush, couldn’t he? The prospect of having Emma Swan as a friend seemed farfetched at first, and he should be grateful for that possible opportunity alone.

“I think I understand why this movie is considered a Christmas tradition now,” she said when the film ended. “It was pretty funny.”

“I agree. Much better than any of the ruddy sequels they made later on.”

“You mean those idiots left him behind again?" 

“Afraid so.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure if was a result of bad parenting, or bad screenwriters just desperate to make more money.”

As he loaded their dinner plates into the dishwasher, his cell phone buzzed with an alert from the weather center including an update on the storm. Truth be told, he hadn’t paid much attention to the weather since Emma had come over. He scrolled through the report, reading that things would likely clear up the next day, and stifled a yawn. It was barely ten o’clock, but he was used to heading to work early almost every morning. Looking over at Emma, he could see her fighting sleep as well, though, her eyes looking heavy as she sat on the couch and looked at something on her phone.

“Tired, Swan?”

She looked up sheepishly from the screen. “A bit. You’d think doing so many stakeouts would have turned me into a night owl by now, but no such luck.”

Killian ran a hand through his already messy hair, a nervous habit he’d developed in high school and had never been able to break. “Just let me change clothes and wash up, then the bedroom’s all yours,” he told her, clearly indicating that he’d be retiring to the couch.

“What? No, I’m not putting you out of your room,” she objected. “I’ve already imposed on you enough as it is.”

“Swan, I’ve told you more than once, you’re not imposing. I’m not allowing any guest of mine to sleep on the couch, even though I don’t mind doing it myself.”

She opened her mouth to argue with him, then paused when she saw the determined expression on his face. “You’re not gonna let me win this, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Fine,” Emma sighed. “Then I’m gonna go to my place long enough to wash up and change. See if ice has started to grow on anything while I’m at it.”

“Just don’t come back frozen, Elsa.”

He heard her laugh as she walked out the door to her own apartment. “I should hope not. The cold bothers me too much.”

She returned less than ten minutes later, wearing a pair of flannel pajamas that were obviously much loved, her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head. “Not frozen, all though it is ridiculously cold over there,” she remarked, shivering for emphasis. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to let me take the couch?” she asked, frowning at the pillow and blankets he had laid out for himself.

“What do you think, Swan?” he replied, giving her a knowing glance. “I’ve left a few extra blankets out in case you get cold,” he nodded his head toward the bedroom, “but, otherwise, I think you should find everything to be satisfactory.”

“Okay.” She walked to the bedroom, socked feet padding across the living room, then paused in front of the closed door, her hand resting on the doorknob. “Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

‘I know this isn’t exactly how you planned to spend Christmas, and, knowing me, I probably haven’t always been the nicest person in the world to you...but thank you for taking me in.” He couldn’t tell if it was just a glow from the lamp on his side table, or if there was an extra hint of color spreading across her cheeks. “I really do appreciate everything.”

Killian scratched the back of his head- another nervous habit- not sure of what else to do. “Think nothing of it. Just trying to be neighborly, and all.”

The corners of Emma’s mouth turned up slightly, in what was almost a smile. “Night, Killian.”

“Goodnight, Swan.”

He heard the door softly click shut behind her as he went around the apartment, making sure the front door was locked and turning off most of the lights, save for the one in the kitchen he usually left on at night. He took the pillow and blankets from where he’d left them on the couch and tried his best to make himself comfortable. Truth be told, sleeping on his couch wasn’t actually as pleasant as he’d led Emma to believe, which is why he insisted she take his room instead. 

He tried not to let his thoughts linger on the woman sleeping in his bed; needless to say, he failed somewhat miserably. (It didn’t help to know that his sheets would probably smell just like her, something he didn’t quite mind after getting a whiff of her vanilla shampoo when she’d walked past him in the kitchen earlier that evening.) He had absolutely no idea what was on the agenda for tomorrow or the rest of the week, but he couldn’t bring himself to care if she was somehow involved in it.

Killian cursed himself as he adjusted his pillow for what had to be the fifth time in just as many minutes. He was already fighting to get Emma Swan out of his head, and he hadn’t even spent a full day with her yet.

But he couldn’t help but smile as he finally started to fall asleep, knowing he wouldn’t have to be alone for Christmas after all.


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect for this to be finished and posted before the weekend, but you guys are lucky I had nothing to do between classes today. Also, just wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone who's given me positive feedback on this story so far! I definitely wasn't expecting any of it, but it's what motivated me to throw myself into this second chapter despite finals taking over my life.

The first thing Emma registers when she wakes up is the sunlight that’s shining directly into her eyes. She groans and yanks the covers up over her face; why weren’t her curtains closed? That’s when she hears the singing coming from the kitchen, and sits up quickly in her bed. And that’s when it hits her: this isn’t her bed. More importantly, this isn’t her apartment.

She let out a sigh of relief as the events from the previous day came back to her. It was much more reassuring to remember that Killian had taken her in, especially compared to the prospect of trying to figure out what stranger she could have went home with the night before. 

Emma got up and tried her best to make Killian’s bed look like it had the night before. She worried her bottom lip nervously as she looked it over; hopefully was decent enough for his liking. He seemed to be on the neat side, whereas she was doing well if she thought to make her bed once a week. Other than feeling as if she was overstepping her boundaries as a guest, this was one reason she would have rather taken the couch. (Although she had to admit, his mattress was much softer than the dull one she’d been sleeping on for years.)

She had every intention of going to see what Killian was up to in the kitchen when she caught sight of herself in the mirror hanging above his dresser and cringed. What started out as a messy bun the night before now looked like a bird’s nest had formed on the top of her head. Not the best impression to make first thing in the morning, she thought to herself as she took her hair down and worked through the knotted curls with her fingers. 

Not that she was trying to impress Killian, despite how good looking he was. Emma had been there and done that enough to know that a pretty face wasn’t worth throwing caution to the wind for. He seemed to be genuinely nice (and even somewhat sweet) from what she had seen so far, and it wouldn’t exactly hurt her to have another friend, especially since she was so bad at making them in the first place. But friendship was all she had to give, despite anything that could possibly make her want otherwise.

Emma quickly braided her hair into a loose plait and went to find her new almost-friend. She opened the bedroom door and was greeted by the smell of bacon and eggs frying as she made her way into the kitchen. Killian was in his pajamas at the stove cooking said eggs and bacon, humming the same familiar Christmas tune she’d heard him singing when she first woke up. “Good morning.”

Killian turned around at the sound of her voice, and it was everything she could do not to laugh. If his hair had been on the messy side before, it was nothing compared to the case of bedhead he was sporting now- and seemed to be completely unaware of. He looked more like a five-year old boy than a grown man. “Hello, Swan. Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did. I would offer to help you,” she tells him, gesturing to the food on the stove, “but I think we both know that’s a lost cause.” 

He laughs as he drops another bacon strip down onto the frying pan. “No worries, lass. It’s actually nice to have someone else to cook for, for a change.” He doesn’t say it, but Emma detects a bit of sadness in his voice, most likely a sense of loneliness she’s all too familiar with this time of year.

She takes a seat at the kitchen table, watching him put the finishing touches on their breakfast. ‘I’m sorry your flight was cancelled. I bet it sucks not being able to go home for Christmas.”

“It does feel strange not being there to celebrate...have been every year since I was born, even after I moved away.” He brings two plates of food to the table, setting one of them in front of her. “But better safe than sorry, I guess. Even though flying out today wouldn’t have been a problem after all.” He rolls his eyes a bit, which causes her to notice that while there was still plenty of it on the ground, the snow had stopped falling and the sun was out. So much for a blizzard.

Emma took a bite of her eggs and held back a moan; despite what he said the night before about not being much of a cook, the man clearly knew what he was doing in the kitchen. “Wow, these are amazing,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food.

He chuckled at her reaction, which made her blush a bit; she’d always been a bit too enthusiastic over good food. “They’re nothing special, but I’m glad you like them all the same. Is there anything particular on your agenda today, Swan?” he asked a moment later.

She shrugged. “Not really. I’d normally be working, but I usually try to take a few days off for the holidays, even if I don’t plan on celebrating. Plus, I really don’t feel up for chasing anyone in the snow either,” she admitted. “What about you? I should probably think of something to go do so I won’t be in your hair all day.”

“Nonsense, love. I’m afraid I don’t have plans myself since I wasn’t expecting to be here for the rest of the week. In fact,” he continued, taking their now empty plates over to the sink, “I was just thinking earlier about what to do for my first American Christmas..although it feels as if I’m a few years too late,” he laughs, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier than it was before.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never really had the full American Christmas experience either...and this is coming from an American.”

Killian pauses for a moment, then casts a hopeful glance in her direction. “We could change that, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do all the typical things you’re supposed to do at Christmas, or, at least what they do in all the movies, anyway. Go see the lights uptown, bake cookies, perhaps buy a few gifts for one of those toy store drives that gives them to underprivileged children. Hell, I’m even up for getting a tree and decorations to liven up this place.” 

She can tell by the way his eyes have lit up that he’s completely serious about all of this. (It’s actually kind of adorable, even though she’d never tell him as much.) And yet, everything he’s described is typically the sort of scenario that she would run far, far away from. It’s the same reason she turned down the multiple offers to spend Christmas with David and Mary Margaret with their families in Maine- as much as she loves her friends, she didn’t know how to be around their storybook romance and perfect family and not feel suffocated, like she didn’t belong. Blame it on her less than favorable upbringing or the heartbreak that’s kept her from feeling at ease with almost anyone, but having someone to spend the holidays with, let alone a special list of traditions to complete at that, is so foreign to her that she’s not sure how to react.

The part of herself that she considers logical and isn’t willing to let someone hurt her again is telling her to get out while she still can and go back to her own apartment, heat or no heat. But the part that’s always been lonely and desperate for more out of life can’t bring her to let go of the opportunity while it’s there and waiting for her. 

That’s when she realizes he’s waiting for her to say something. There’s an unsure expression on his face, eyes wide and lips pursed together as if he’s hoping she won’t laugh at him and reject his idea altogether. 

“Okay,” she finally responds after praying she won’t regret this. “So, where do we start?”

-/-

After going back to her apartment for a shower and a change of clothes, she’s back at his kitchen table half an hour later, waiting to see just what Killian has in store for the two of them today. She shivered and took a sip of the hot chocolate she’d brought over from her own kitchen. She had told Killian she’d be fine showering in her own bathroom without hot water (an attempt at not inconveniencing him any more than necessary), but she’d regretted it the minute she stepped under the freezing cold spray. 

“I’ll be ready in just a moment, Swan!” she heard him call from his bedroom.

“That’s fine.” Emma picked at the hem of her white sweater as she finished her drink, hoping the leggings and boots she’d paired with it were suitable for whatever she found herself doing later on. At least her red leather jacket made it look as if she’d made an effort to be festive for once.

Killian appeared in the kitchen just a moment later. He’d obviously combed his hair in what she guessed was an attempt to tame his earlier case of bedhead, but something told her he’d be running his fingers through it sooner than later and making it a mess all over again.

“Alright, Swan. We ready to go?” he asked, pulling on a leather jacket of his own.

It was all she could do not to stare at her neighbor in the rather snug pair of jeans he had chosen to wear. She felt a blush coloring her cheeks and began picking at her sweater again, hoping he hadn’t noticed. ‘Yep. So, when are you going to tell me just what we’re doing?”

“Now, what fun is that, love? It takes away the element of surprise,” he replied as they left his apartment. “Alright, alright,” he conceded after seeing the skeptical expression on her face. “If you must know, I thought we would start off by stopping at Granny’s Diner down the street, if that’s alright with you. I don’t know that it qualifies as celebrating, but the peppermint hot chocolate she serves this time of year is enough to celebrate for.”

“If this peppermint hot chocolate is anywhere nearly as good as her grilled cheese, I’m sold.”

-/-

“Admit it, Swan. I was right.”

Emma sighed as she took a sip of her peppermint hot chocolate. “You were right. It’s amazing.” She scolded herself for being a loyal customer for months, and not even knowing that the drink was on the menu around the holidays.

They were sitting in a corner booth at the diner, sharing an order of onion rings with their hot chocolates. (He’d made fun of her for ordering the strange combination at first, but was stealing food off of her plate as soon as the waitress brought them out.) 

She’s not unaware of how they must look to those around them; from the outside, they could very well mirror a happy couple who’s preparing to spend their first Christmas together, rather than neighbors who hardly interacted before yesterday and still barely knew each other. Even the waitress, who she recognized as the owner’s granddaughter, had whispered something along the lines of “Hang on to that one, he’s a keeper,” when she’d gotten up to use the restroom a few minutes ago. The comment itself hadn’t surprised her nearly as much as the memory that it triggered along with it: she still remembered the moment when someone had randomly made a similar comment to her about Neal over a decade ago when they’d only been together for a few weeks. (If they only knew.) 

If Killian’s having similar thoughts, he doesn’t let it show, only makes a comment about his protective older brother as he replies to one of his texts. “I told Liam the blizzard was a false alarm, and he still wants to make sure I’m alive and well every five bloody minutes.” 

“I’m sure he just wants to know you’re alright,” she tells him. He may be annoyed by his brother’s constant worrying, but she can tell he still appreciates that Liam cares about him. Emma can’t help but be a bit jealous of the relationship they seem to have with each other; she’s always wondered what her life would be like if her parents had kept her, and she’d gotten to grow up with a sibling or two.

Killian sighs. “Aye, I suppose you’re correct. So, are you ready for Christmas shopping?” He takes the last onion ring left on the plate, earning him a death glare from her in response.”I believe the toy story a few blocks away is doing one of those toy drives I mentioned earlier.”

“If you weren’t talking about getting Christmas gifts for poor kids, I’d probably slap you for stealing my food.”

“And damage this face?” he asks, pretending to be offended.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Yeah, modesty definitely is not one of your best traits, Jones,” she tells him as they leave Granny’s.

-/-

For it to be the day before Christmas Eve, the toy store is an absolute madhouse. “You’d think more people would try to buy their kids presents sooner than this,” she mutters to Killian as they squeeze through the line at the front of the store to get to the bin for the toy drive. At least the bin is nearly full, and the sight of all the gifts purchased for less fortunate kids warms her heart. She knows all too well what it feels like to have Christmas come and go like it’s just another day that’s nothing special. It surprised her at first that Killian was so eager to participate in something like this, which makes her wonder if his childhood possibly reflected her own in some way.

There are papers pinned to a sign above the toy bin, each one focused on a particular child and their interests. Killian grabs two off of the sign, taking one and giving her the other. A little girl with blonde pigtails and big, brown eyes grins back at her from the grainy photo printed onto the page. Hopefully, whatever she picks out today will cause that same smile come Christmas morning. She notices Killian has coincidentally picked the flier for her sister, which results in the two of them making their way around the store in order to find gifts. She enjoys it more than she expected to. Not that she was dreading the idea of doing a good deed, but seeing just how invested he is in all of this is nearly enough to make her see him in a completely different light...and think about the last time she was in any type of situation that involved children. 

He’s in the middle of rambling about some toy that looks like one he and Liam had as kids when he notices she’s staring daggers into the Barbie doll in her hands. “Emma? Are you okay?”

How is she supposed to answer that? 'Yeah', she thinks to herself. 'It’s just that seeing you so eager to make children you don’t even know happy on Christmas reminded me of the fact that my jerk of an ex left me over the same subject around this time of year'. Instead, she gives him a weak smile and says, “I’m fine.” 

If he doesn’t believe her, he takes the hint not to press the subject. 

They finish finding what else they need and make it through the checkout line fairly quickly despite the large crowd that’s at the store. Before she knows it, their gifts are deposited in the toy bin, and she’s trying not to let him see just how many emotions this task has stirred up. 

“What next, Jones?” she asks as they walk out of the toy store.

“More shopping. But for us this time; I need a Christmas tree.”

She tries not to laugh at the mental image of fitting a normal sized Christmas tree in their small scale apartments. “What, are you going to drag a huge tree back to our building?”

He shakes his head, laughing. “No. Although I wish that were possible, I was thinking something smaller. And artificial.”

They’re just a few blocks away from the store when they come across a large group of teenagers having a snowball fight in the park with what’s left from yesterday's storm. 

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

She should have been smarter, should have seen it coming the minute he raised an eyebrow and gave her one of those sneaky grins he wore so well.

“Duck.”

Emma moved out of the way just in time to miss the large snowball he’d thrown her way, which hit the tree behind her.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play?” She grabbed a handful of snow to make one of her own and managed to hit the side of his head. “Don’t dish what you can’t take, Jones,” she teased when he made a face after she landed another one on his right shoulder. 

Emma never would have thought months of chasing bail jumpers would give her advantage in a snowball fight of all things. Killian sent two more in her direction, both of which she dodged, before eventually throwing his hands up and surrendering. “Okay, I get it, Swan. You win this one.” 

“I guess this means you’ve learned not to underestimate me?” she smirked as they left the park and resumed their walk to the store.

Killian shook his head, chuckling despite his annoyance at her just minutes earlier. “I think any man would be a fool to underestimate the likes of you, love.”

-/-

When Killian had shown interest in getting decorations for his apartment, she was expecting a small tree, a few ornaments, and maybe a string or two of Christmas lights. But the amount of things he’s got loaded into their shopping cart already has her feeling somewhat overwhelmed, and he’s not even finished yet.

There’s the three foot tall Christmas tree he’s picked out, enough lights and ornaments to decorate both of their apartments with, the snowglobe he wants to put on his coffee table (“Don’t judge me, Swan; I just like it), not to mention the obnoxious Santa hat he’s just stuck on top of Emma’s head. “If you expect me to wear a costume for Christmas, you’re gonna be thoroughly disappointed,” she warns him, putting the hat back on the shelf. 

“You wound me,” he gasps dramatically, earning him what’s got to be the third eye roll from her since they arrived at the store. “Okay. no silly hats.”

She shouldn’t be surprised when he starts looking through the huge rack of stockings on display in the middle of the store. 

“You realize there are no fireplaces in our building, right?”

“I’ll get a fake one.”

“Oh my gosh, Killian.”

He shrugs. “It won’t look right without stockings, now, will it?.” He ends up selecting two generic looking ones, both red with white faux fur trim along the top, not unlike the Santa hat she just refused to wear just minutes ago. \

She throws another one in the shopping cart when he’s got his back turned to her. Two stockings looks too domestic, and far too homey for her comfort. Three didn’t have as many implications, and felt like she’d be playing it safe. Safe, she can deal with. Killian raises an eyebrow when he sees her addition, but she blurts out, “I don’t like even numbers” before he can ask. If he thinks her behavior is any bit as ridiculous as it seems, he doesn’t mention it. 

Emma somehow succeeds in talking him out of the fake fireplace, reminding him that he’s going to have trouble finding somewhere to store the things he’s already got come the new year. “We’ll hang the stockings off the side of the kitchen table or something,” she tells him, aware of how absurd the idea sounds.

What starts out as a bit of excitement over decorating his apartment for Christmas quickly turns into dread when she realizes they’re going to have to drag every bit of this in the snow back to their building. Emma hadn’t felt the need to drive her car since she didn’t expect to come back with so much, and there isn’t a cab in sight. She makes him carry the tree, which means she’s forced to juggle almost everything else. (“I so would not do this if you weren’t putting me up for Christmas.”) At least she convinced him to wait until tomorrow to come back and get the ingredients for the Christmas cookies he wants to make. “We’re taking my car,” she insists. For once, he doesn’t argue with her.

After what feels like forever, they finally make it back to their building. Emma doesn’t think either one of them has ever been so grateful to live in an apartment complex with an elevator; carrying their load up two flights of stairs isn’t exactly something she wanted to tackle. 

“Okay, Jones,” she sighs, unceremoniously dropping the bags on his couch when they’re in his living room. “I think it’s safe to say you owe me a drink.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Killian disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two beers in hand, giving her one and taking the other for himself. They down their drinks while unpacking the load from the store, deciding to take on the Christmas tree first since it’s bigger than anything else. Even though it was made up of several pieces, resulting in it being much harder to put together than either of them anticipated, the tree fit perfectly in the corner of the living room. Adding the lights and hanging a few too many ornaments is enough to give a whole new feel to the space.

It’s when they’re putting up the stockings (which end up hanging in the kitchen like she suggested, and looking every bit as silly as it sounds) that Killian opens Pandora on his phone to the first Christmas station he can find, letting the sound of Nat King Cole singing “The Christmas Song” fill the apartment. She hasn’t heard the song in years, and just like several other things today, it takes her back to a time and place that she’s tried for so long to forget about. Instead of being twenty- eight and in her neighbors apartment, she’s eighteen and spending the holidays in a cheap motel room all over again. The main difference between the two, however, is the company she’s now sharing, and she still hasn’t fully convinced herself that it’s safe to put her trust in Killian. She thought it would be all right to do just that the last time, and look where that got her in the end.

The station switches to “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” and Killian’s impersonation of Burl Ives pulls her out of her reverie of thoughts. He’s intentionally trying to sing it badly, and Emma can’t help the giggle that escapes her lips despite her conflicting emotions. “As much as it pains me to tell you this, I believe I would stick with legal work,” she tells him, laughing again at the fake pout he gives her in response.

The two of them spend the rest of the afternoon decorating the apartment and debating on who has the worst Christmas karaoke skills. (It winds up being a tie; neither one of them was meant to sing.) They order pizza from Emma’s favorite place downtown and eat while watching Die Hard, which they’ve both seen before.  
“Is this really a Christmas film, though?” he asks half an hour into the movie.

“It’s festive enough to count.”

She comes to the conclusion that they’re too old for their ages when they both find themselves yawning by ten o’clock again, not unlike the night before. She repeats the routine of going to her apartment to change and get ready for bed, coming back in another pair of flannel pajamas, her hair once again in a messy knot. 

Killian is already dressed for bed and setting up his bedroll on the couch when she comes back. She begins to make her way to his room, but pauses and finds herself looking back and forth between her neighbor and the bed that is certainly big enough for two people.

Emma must be out of her mind considering the worries that were consuming her thoughts just hours ago, but it doesn’t stop her from asking the question that flies out of her mouth. “Killian? We’re both mature adults, right?”

“Aye, I suppose so.” The look on his face makes it clear that she’s caught him off guard with her question. 

She nods her head toward his room. “You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch again. There’s plenty of room for both of us in here.”

“Are you sure, Swan? I wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t sure. And you wouldn’t be overstepping boundaries; I’m convinced you can’t possibly be a serial killer now,” she laughs.

It looks as if he’s about to object when she adds, “I know your couch can’t be that comfortable, Killian. Don’t lie to me.”

She can tell by the way he sighs that she’s right. “If you insist, love.”

It’s not nearly as awkward as it should be considering how long it’s been since she’s shared a bed with someone: about as long as it’s been since she’s done anything else that she’s reflected on today. She goes to the left side of the bed after hearing he doesn’t have a preference, crawling under the covers while he goes around the apartment and ensures everything is locked and turned off that’s supposed to be. She’s facing away from him when he enters the room but feels the dip of the mattress as he lays down beside her. 

“Goodnight, Emma,” he says before turning off the bedside lamp and leaving them both in darkness.

“Night,” she replies, exhausted from the day’s events. 

Within seconds his breathing evens out, telling her he’s sound asleep. As tired as she is, her thoughts from earlier come flooding back all at once. She should avoid taking any chance that she’s wrong about him and the kind of person he is. But everything in her is dying to trust him, to find out if there’s something there that’s actually worth putting her heart out on the line for. 

She only wishes that this Christmas will be unlike all the ones before as she finally gives into sleep, anxious to see what tomorrow will bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are again appreciated :)


	3. Day 3

He groans as the noise from an unnecessarily loud truck outside pulls him from sleep, interrupting what he thought was a fairly pleasant dream.  _ Bloody hell. _ Eyes still shut, he attempted to roll over onto his other side in hopes of going back to sleep until he became aware of the person sleeping next to him, the person whose body was much closer to his than it had been the night before. 

 

( _ Bloody hell indeed.) _

 

Emma’s head was tucked into his shoulder, her arm draped over his waist, and her legs intertwined with his under the covers. He should try to slip out of her grasp now while she was still asleep- he had good reason to assume she’d react badly to their current situation if she woke up and took in the way she was curled up against him. But it was easier said than done, Killian thought to himself. Just a few minutes would be relatively harmless considering the fact that they’d probably been like this for most of the night, wouldn’t it? It’s been ages since he woke up with someone like this, and saying it’s difficult for him to let go of the moment while he has it is a vast understatement. 

 

Through the bits of daylight slowly coming in through the bedroom window, he’s quickly able to tell that she looks more relaxed in sleep than he’s ever seen her before. Emma’s slowly began to open up to him over the past two days, but he knows there’s so much beneath the surface that he’s yet to learn about his neighbor. He finds himself thinking that he’d like to see her this at ease more often, able to feel happy and relaxed without hiding behind the walls she seems to put up around herself. He caught a glimpse of said walls yesterday, most noticeably when they were at the toy store. At the time, he associated it with her past in foster care, but it was definitely more than that. He only hoped that he could have the honor of fully earning her trust over time and find out more about the woman that he was quickly becoming fascinated with.

 

She began to stir in her sleep then, a sign that she’d probably be waking up sooner than later. Killian reluctantly maneuvered himself away from her and got out of bed, pulling the comforter up over Emma’s shoulders. (His apartment tended to be drafty first thing in the morning; she’d thank him later if she knew.)  Although he wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the covers and pull her against him like she’d been seconds ago, he gave himself a brief reminder about being a gentleman as he stumbled to the kitchen in desperate need of caffeine. 

 

As the coffee pot began to warm up, he went through the cabinets and selected the ingredients necessary to make pancakes. He remembered Emma making a comment the day before about the nutmeg recipe a friend of hers used that was fantastic, and he was determined to try it for himself. He’d just started pouring pancake batter onto the griddle when she shuffled out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. “Morning,” she mumbled, making a beeline for the coffee that had just finished brewing.

 

“Good morning, love. I trust you slept well?”

 

She nodded. “For the most part. Even though you snore.”

He knew for a fact she was trying to tease him; he couldn’t recall himself ever being known to snore over the past thirty years of his life. “I do not,” he protested, making a face at her. 

 

Her heard her giggle to herself over her coffee at his denial. “I doubt I’d know even if you did. I’m not exactly a light sleeper.”

 

_ Isn’t that the truth _ , he thought to himself as he began stacking the finished pancakes onto two different plates. He imagined she slept like the dead after a day of chasing bail jumpers. “Then you have no reason to tease me, then,” he said, pushing one of the plates her way. “Eat up, Swan. Syrup’s in the fridge, top shelf.”

 

Adding nutmeg turned out to be a great addition to the pancakes, Emma told him so during a mouthful of food with maple syrup running down her chin. “Are you still up for making cookies today?” he asked her as they finished breakfast.

 

“If you’re still willing to battle the store on Christmas Eve, then yeah, I suppose so. And yes, I’m most definitely driving,” she answered the question that was on the tip of his tongue before he could even ask it. “You’re not about to get me to walk there and back again after what I went through yesterday.”

 

“Oh, come on, love,” he nudged her playfully with his elbow as she stood up from her seat at the kitchen table. “You know you had fun.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. He’d caused her to do that quite a bit over the past few days. “Yeah, yeah. Another one of those ‘I did it because you’re providing me with shelter’ things.”

 

“If you really want to go back to your own apartment and sit in the cold…”

 

“I’m not that desperate,” she quickly cut him off. “That’s enough, Jones,” she added, taking in the smug expression on his face. “I’m going to shower. Be back in thirty.”

 

-/-

 

True to her word, Emma was back and ready to go within half an hour. She was dressed in a similar outfit to the one she’d worn yesterday, except this time with a grey beanie on her head. (He couldn’t help but think she looked somewhat adorable, and had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her so. While giving compliments most likely went along with being a gentleman, he wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear it.)

 

“You know,” she said, looking around the newly decorate living room as he pulled on his jacket and tucked his phone, wallet, and keys away in the side pockets, “we actually did a pretty decent job in here.”

 

“Of course.” Killian smiled at what he detected as a sense of accomplishment in her voice. “I don’t mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

 

Instead of the eye roll or sarcastic remark he expected, there was a smile on her face instead. “Yeah, well, let’s see if you still feel that way after I try my hand at making Christmas cookies.”

 

-/-

 

“Oh my gosh, you actually want to  _ make _ cookies.” 

 

He looked over at her, leaning against their shopping cart, watching him with wide eyes as he picked up baking powder and vanilla extract from the baking department. “As opposed to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Emma shrugged. “I dunno, I was thinking of one of those pre made kits where you just take the cookies out of the pack and put them straight into the oven; maybe add icing later if you’re really feeling fancy.”

 

Killian couldn’t help but make a face at the boring baking method she was describing to him. “Emma whatever-your-middle-name-is Swan, if you think I’m going to buy that processed rubbish instead of making my own cookies, you’re highly mistaken.”

 

She threw her hands up in defense. “Hey, remember you’re talking to ‘Ramen and Pop Tarts’ over here. And it’s Marie.”

 

“What’s that?” he asked, placing the items in the cart and pointing out the direction they needed to go next.

 

“My middle name, it’s Marie. Or, at least that’s the one I picked out for myself when I was a kid, anyway.” He recognized the same sadness in her voice that he’d noticed when she first told him about her upbringing a few nights ago.

 

“Emma Marie Swan...it suits you.” That earned him a hint of a smile in return, as if she was trying to believe him. “Let’s head this way, love,” he told her as they turned up the next aisle. “That’s it for the baking ingredients, now I just need frosting and the like for decorating.”

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were secretly about five years old.”

 

They had a bit of a debate at checkout about who was paying for the cookie supplies, trying (and failing) not to attract much attention from the other shoppers around them. 

 

“You’re not paying for anything, Swan. This was my idea.”

 

“I don’t see how you’re not broke after decking out your apartment yesterday. Let me at least do something!”

 

The man working behind the register looks as if he’s going to scream if one of them doesn’t pay and move along for the next person in his ridiculously long line of shoppers.  

 

“Sorry, love, but this is one you just aren’t going to win.” 

 

“We’ll see about that.”

 

She slips a twenty in the pocket of his coat as he’s swiping his credit card in the machine, thinking he wouldn’t notice. He slips it right back into hers as soon as they’re in the parking lot, and she mutters something about “paying for lunch or dinner if nothing else.”

 

Their drive back to the apartment complex is a quiet one for the most part, both of them wrapped up in their own thoughts, whether that be good or bad. Killian’s focused on the holiday song coming through Emma’s lackluster stereo when the significance of the date hits him: It’s December 24th. Of course, it’s Christmas Eve, just as they’d been able to tell earlier by the masses of people out and about getting their last minute shopping done. But it also means that he only has five days left until he’s scheduled to hop on a plane headed to London. 

 

He’d been so disappointed earlier in the week when his original trip had to be canceled, but now, he actually has mixed feelings about leaving Boston, even if just to ring in the new year with his brother. Of course he’s missed Liam, and going home for a short visit is something he’s looked forward to for weeks. And yet, leaving Boston also means leaving Emma, especially since someone should be available to fix her broken heater soon after Christmas. 

 

Killian cursed himself for somehow becoming attached to a woman he barely knew before their encounter a few days ago. He had no idea how she’d unintentionally managed to have such an effect on him in such a short time, but now the prospect of her going back to her own apartment was bothering him too. Not that he expected her to stay any longer than she had to, but he likes having her around to spend time with and learn more about the person she was underneath all those bloody walls of hers. Something tells him that this may not last long after she’s back in her own space, and he already feels a sense of loneliness just thinking about it.  

 

Emma’s clearly not focused on anything of the sort. She interrupts his train of thoughts when she reaches over to turn the radio up. “Oh, I love this song!” she tells him as Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” begins to play. 

 

“Really, Swan?” he asks, cracking a smile as she sings offkey with the lyrics. “You don’t seem like the type of girl who enjoys romantic holiday tunes.”

 

“I don’t” she replies quickly, making a face at the accusation. “But this one’s...fun, I guess. I’ve never really put much stock into the lyrics before.”

 

He’s desperate to change his current mindset, to make her laugh the way she had the first night she stayed in his apartment. “Since you like the song so much, I don’t suppose you’ll mind if I sing along too, then.” He goes out of his way to make her tuneless rendition seem like award winning music, and the laugh she gives him in response is enough to cease his worries, even if just for the time being.

 

By the time Emma’s car pulls up in front of their building, he’s already decided on his New Year’s resolution, and one he’ll actually try to keep: no matter what happens after Christmas, he’s determined to make Emma Swan laugh as much as he possibly can.

 

-/-

 

Surprisingly, making cookies with her goes much more smoothly than their other cooking endeavors. By the time the first batch goes in the oven, Emma has flour in her hair and egg yolk smeared on her pants, but neither one of them had been subjected to any kind of bodily harm. (Yet.)

 

“I guess I should go find something else to wear,” she mused, frowning at the mess on her clothes. 

 

“That’s not a bad idea,” he tells her as his phone vibrates in the pocket of his jeans. “But I recommend something you don’t mind potentially getting frosting on.” He doesn’t even look to see who it is before answering the call, there could only be one person interested in talking to him on Christmas Eve.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she laughs, leaving as he lifts the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

 

“Was that a girl?” Of course Liam’s main point of interest was always Killian’s love life. 

 

“Hello to you too, brother,” he sighs, wishing he’d waited just another moment or two before answering his phone.

 

‘Hi...now, answer my question. Do you have a girlfriend you haven’t told me about?”

 

“No, of course not. That was my neighbor you heard, she’s been staying with me for a few days until the heat in her apartment gets fixed.”

 

“Oh. I thought maybe you’d gone and found yourself someone.” Liam chuckled. “Well, at least it doesn’t sound as if you’ll be spending Christmas alone after all.”

 

“Aye. As a matter of fact, it’s been quite nice to have some company here,” Killian said, crouching down to check on the cookies that were still baking. “But what about you? Going to be festive and spend the day getting work done?” His brother was a columnist for an online magazine, and very rarely took a day off.

 

“Erm, about that…” He all but see Liam scratching that spot behind his ear nervously; it’s where he’d developed the habit from years ago. “I might have met someone recently….”

 

“Is that so?” Killian couldn’t help but be amused considering his brother’s interested in his own life when it came to girls just minutes ago.

 

“Yeah, that’s actually why I called. She and her sister are having some kind of get-together on New Year’s Eve, and she’s invited both of us to come if you’re up for it. I know we usually do something at my place instead, but-”

 

“No, of course. I’d love to go.” He heard his door open as Emma returned, now wearing a tee shirt and faded sweatpants. ‘I have to make sure this girl is good enough for you, after all.”

 

“Just don’t embarrass me too much and I won’t care. Your flight still scheduled for the twenty-ninth?”

 

“If the weather doesn’t cause any more problems, then yes. I’ll be there bright and early.” 

 

“Great. I’ll be there when you land. Merry Christmas, little brother.”

 

“ _ Younger _ brother,” Killian corrected him, even though he knew it was useless. “Merry Christmas, Liam.”

 

He ended the call and went to join Emma, who was completely transfixed on the oven. “How much longer ‘til they’re done?”

 

“About five minutes or so.” He laughed at the pout on her face. “Impatient aren’t we, Swan?”

 

“Shut up,” she muttered. “I’m hungry. Plus you know I’m powerless against sweets.”

 

“I certainly do.” The dish towel she threw at him hit the side of his face seconds later. “Hey! It’s bad form to attack a man on Christmas.”

 

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Emma pointed out. 

 

“Touche. Not for another..” he looks to see what time it is. “Eleven hours, give or take a few minutes.”

 

“So I can throw all the dish towels I want at you until then,” she smirks. “Decorating, Christmas movies, snowball fight, toy donations, cookies...any other major traditions you can think of that we’ve missed?”

 

_ Mistletoe  _ is the first thought that comes to mind. Instead, he answers, “No, I think we’ve covered all the bases as far as I can remember. Is there something you wished to add?”

 

Emma was quiet for a moment. She leaned up against the kitchen counter beside him, brow furrowed as she thought about his question. “Honestly...I’ve only ever celebrated Christmas a few times before this. I don’t mean to get all sappy on you, but it’s kind of nice to know that for once, I’m not the only one who would’ve ended up spending the holidays by myself if you hadn’t showed up at my door the day before yesterday.” She sighed. “What I mean by all this is, there’s nothing I could think of to add, because not being alone for the first time in years, and feeling like I was accepted somewhere is all I’ve ever really wanted out of Christmas. I guess I have you to thank for that.” 

 

Killian can tell from the tone of her voice that she’s holding back tears. He can’t say as he blames her; he knows it’s got to be difficult for her to open up to anyone, especially a man whose presence in her life is still new and not yet familiar. “I have you to thank as well, love. Trust me.”

 

The loud beeping of the oven timer interrupts their short-lived moment, letting them know the cookies should be done. He grabs an oven mitt and removes the tray, obviously not trusting her to fail from burning herself. The last thing they needed to add to their traditions list was a visit to the Emergency Room on Christmas Eve.

 

“These will need to cool for a few minutes before they can be decorated,” he tells her, placing the tray on the stove. “Why don’t you start getting the frosting and whatnot out of the bags and open them so they’ll be ready to use?” Just like he’d done when buying decorations for the apartment, Killian had gone a bit overboard with cookie decoration supplies as well. (He blames it on having too much Christmas spirit.) After Emma had taken everything out of the shopping bags, there were more containers of frosting, sprinkles, candies, and even random designing tools on his kitchen counter than either of them knew what to do with.

 

“At this rate, you’re gonna need to start a bakery to keep from going broke,” she comments, eyes widening at the large pile in front of them.

 

“You had better cross your fingers that we made decent cookies then,” he laughs. “I think these should be cool enough now.” He doesn’t miss the way her eyes light up at his words.

 

If cooking with Emma Swan was a mess, then decorating cookies with her was utter chaos. While the cookies she’d embellished looked nice, her hands and the counter space in front of her had somehow become covered in red and green icing, not to mention the multi-colored sprinkles he knew would be a pain to clean up. Killian couldn’t make too much fun of her though; he’d certainly made his own mess, too. But at least he didn’t look like he’d gotten into a food fight with one of Santa’s elves. She stuck her tongue out at him when he told her so.

 

It’s when the real frosting incident happens, however, that he royally screws up. She’s going about her business piping frosting onto another cookie when she reaches up to push a strand of hair out of her face, and leaves a green streak on her forehead in the process. He manages not to laugh, but she can tell from the look on his face that something’s not right. “What is it, Killian?”

 

“Nothing, love, it’s just, eh….you’ve got a bit of frosting on your face.”

 

“What, where?”

 

“Right here,” he tells her as he takes a dab of the red on his thumb and smears it across her nose.

 

She looks angry at first, then smiles deviously as she reaches for the frosting container. “Two can play at this game!” she laughs, practically covering the side of his face with the stuff before he can get away.

 

No time at all passes before it’s an all out war in his kitchen, both of them soon covered in shades of red and green. It’s the last thing in the world he ever expected to do with a grown woman on Christmas Eve, but he can’t say he minds, despite just how messy it is. He backs out when she goes for the can of whipped cream in the refrigerator, knowing it can only go downhill from there. “That’s enough, Swan! I give in.”

 

“You should, considering you started this whole thing.” Emma lets out a hearty laugh, the one he’s come to adore so much in such a short amount of time. “I guess you couldn’t handle it.” She smirks, reveling in her victory.

 

“I don’t know, love. Much longer and you very well might have been the one who couldn’t handle it,” he tells her. It’s not supposed to sound like a challenge, but it does. That’s when he becomes aware of the flush of her cheeks, the fullness of her lips, and just how beautiful she looks despite the mess streaked across her face. He finds himself moving closer to her without realizing it, and he can tell when she notices by the audible hitch in her breathing. He watches as her eyes widen and she glances down at his lips before licking her own. 

 

“Emma, I…” He’s not sure who moves first, but it’s mere seconds later when their lips meet, and he becomes convinced that Christmas miracles certainly do exist. Her mouth is warm, the taste of frosting somehow even sweeter from her lips as his hands find her waist and pull her closer to him. She tilts her head to deepen the kiss as he feels her hands settle behind his neck, neither one of them giving a damn about the fact that they’re now making an even bigger mess. He draws in a quick breath before chasing her lips again, unwilling to let go of the moment now that it’s in his grasp.  

 

Of course, nothing lasts forever. He can feel the moment she goes tense, breaking off the kiss as she steps away from him, the unmistakable look of panic in her eyes. “I can’t...I’m sorry,” she gasps, turning away from him and quickly fleeing the room.

 

“Emma, wait!” He reaches out to stop her, but fails as she runs out of the apartment and he hears the door of her own slam behind her seconds later. 

 

He sighs in defeat and mumbles what has to be his hundredth “ _ bloody hell _ ” of the day. 

  
So much for Christmas miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me...I promise things look up from here!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected to have this written so soon, but it's finals week and I was desperate for a study break that turned into me cranking out whatever this is. Just a warning that I didn't have time to do my usual read through before I posted this, so please excuse any typos or things that don't make sense.

Emma’s face falls into her hands as she leans back against her apartment door that she’s just slammed shut. Tears prick her eyes as she thinks about what an idiot she’s been the past two days. She should have just stayed in her own apartment and dealt with the cold. At least she wouldn’t be standing here like a fool, feeling just as lonely as she had before he showed up at her door what seemed like weeks ago.

 

But as she takes a deep breath and wipes her eyes, she knows it wasn’t all for naught. For the first time in a decade, she had the prospect of not spending Christmas alone, and with someone who seemed to understand her at that. The time she’s spent with him made her happier than she’d been in months. It was getting attached to him that ruined everything. There wasn’t even an excuse to be made at Killian; she’d initiated what just happened between them as much as he had. Reckless as it was, she wanted to kiss him, wanted to know if there was anything more to the feelings she’d slowly been harboring since the moment he invited her to stay with him.

 

She knows he’ll probably be knocking on her door any minute now. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who gave up without a fight, especially if his feelings showed any resemblance to her own. Not that she planned on answering, though. Giving into him made it much easier to have the already fractured pieces of her heart completely broken again. It had been hard enough to deal with the first time.

 

Taking a look at her stained shirt, she remembers she could stand another chance of clothes, and almost cries again remembering how they got this way in the first place. She’s rummaging through the dresser in her bedroom for a clean outfit when she hears him knocking, just as she expected.

 

“Swan? Look, I know you’re clearly upset, but if we could just talk about this…” 

 

Not knowing what else to do, Emma stays in her room and hopes he’ll get the memo that she can’t do this with him. She hears him sigh and mumble his trademark “bloody hell” as he reluctantly goes back to his own apartment. It hurts a bit to hear him go, even though she knows it’s what’s best for both of them. Not only would she risk hurting herself if she went back, but Killian, too, if she hadn’t managed to do so already. 

 

After washing the frosting off of her face and trading her stained clothes for new ones, she shivers, and pulls on a thick sweater over her t-shirt. She’d been too upset to notice the cold when she first came back, but now, she understands Killian’s insistence that she stay with him, and regrets more than ever screwing up their newfound friendship with her feelings.

 

She makes her way to the kitchen, a room she’d never given much thought to before, but one that now feels cold and empty compared to the one she’s spent time in next door. (The added company certainly hadn’t hurt, either.) A look in the cabinets reminds her she’s out of hot chocolate mix, something she noticed a few days ago but never did anything about since she hasn’t been here to need it. There’s coffee, but her creamer went bad last week, and she’s not desperate enough to drink it black. Her last resort for warmth is turning on the oven and sitting in front of it like a pathetic makeshift fireplace. She’s about to cave and do just that when there’s another knock on the door. 

 

“Swan?”

 

It shouldn’t surprise her. She should have known he wouldn’t give up just that easily. 

 

“I know you clearly don’t want to talk to me, love, that’s fine...I just hate the idea of you being in there when I know it’s got to be cold.”

 

He’s not wrong, she thinks to herself. 

 

“If you’ll just come back to my place, I’ll go out or something...I promise you’ll be left alone as long as I know you’re warm. Please, Emma.”

 

She doesn’t know what it is that makes her cave. Maybe it’s the way he sighs her name in desperation, or simply the fact that it is freezing thanks to her lack of heat. Before she can stop herself, she’s opening the door to face him, despite knowing it can only complicate things even more. He’s changed into clean clothes too, and his hair is actually somewhat combed for once, but he looks just as miserable as she feels. He smiles a bit when he sees her, and it kills Emma to know she has to make his happiness short lived. “Swan-”

 

“Just because I’m cold,” she cuts him off quickly. The smile disappears just as she expected, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods and walks back to his apartment as she locks the door behind her and follows him/

 

She immediately notices the kitchen is much cleaner than it was when she’d left earlier. Emma feels a twinge of guilt that she wasn’t there to help, considering she caused part of the mess in the first place. (It’s not the only thing she feels guilty about.)

 

Not sure what else to do, she slowly makes her way into the living room and takes a seat on the couch. Killian just stands there for a moment, looking out of place in his own home before taking his jacket from the chair it was draped over. “Where are you going?” she asked as he pulls it on and grabs his keys from their designated spot on the end table. 

 

“I said I’d leave you alone, Swan, and that’s what I’m doing.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he’s completely serious, and it breaks her heart a little more to know that he’s so willing to go out of his way for her.

 

“Killian, you don’t need to go,” she sighs. “I’ve already done enough; no need to add running you out of your own apartment to the list.”

 

He sets his things back down on the table, but it doesn’t look as if he’s fully convinced. “I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable, love.”

 

Suddenly, she’s not concerned about how long they’ve been in each other’s lives, how much they still have yet to learn about each other, or how unconventional their circumstances are. Although she’s only allowed a few people to know the details of her past, and those people all being good friends she’s trusted for years, she needs to be honest with Killian; he’s earned that much.

 

“Can you just…come here?” she nods to the empty seat beside her. “I think there are a few things you need to hear.”

 

He’s hesitant at first, but concedes after he can tell she’s not just telling him to stay for his benefit. There’s not much space between them on the couch, making it even harder to think straight as she begins talking. 

 

“You know I used to be in foster care. My parents abandoned me when I was a baby, so I’ve never known anything else, just got used to being passed off between different families and group homes depending on how long people felt like dealing with me. It was awful, feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere, and knowing there wasn’t a family out there who wanted me.” She’s staring at the floor, unable to meet his gaze as she makes herself completely vulnerable. “When I was seventeen, I decided I’d had enough. I stole a roll of bills from my foster mom’s purse and ran away in the middle of the night so I’d be long gone before anyone bothered to notice I wasn’t there. A few weeks later, I met a guy. He was a lot like me: no family or place to call home. Of course, neither one of us had anything to live off of, so we relied on stealing what we could and taking odd jobs here and there so we could go to sleep at night knowing at least a small part of what we had was earned honestly. Our relationship wasn’t perfect by any means. But he said he loved me, and as a kid who was lonely and desperate for some kind of affection, I believed him.”

 

Killian has yet to speak, only sits there and gives her his full attention. She can tell just by the way he’s acting that he knows this isn’t easy for her. “Anyway, a few days before Christmas, we’d scraped together enough money to get a cheap motel room for the holidays. It was a big deal for both of us since it was the first time we’d really ever gotten to celebrate. We just had a pathetic looking Christmas tree he found in a dumpster and food from a gas station down the road, but I was still excited about it since it was ours.” She pauses, not wanting to get to the worst part of her story, but it needs to be told nonetheless. “In the middle of all this, I had what I guess you’d call a pregnancy scare. The idea absolutely terrified me; we were in no place to have a baby. But...I was kind of happy in a way. Considering how I grew up, I liked the idea of giving a kid the kind of life I didn’t get to have, and doing it with someone I loved. My fantasy was shot down in a heartbeat, though. He was livid when I revealed my suspicions to him, said all kinds of terrible things about me for ‘getting myself in a position like that’ as he put it. He went out for a drink before I could even defend myself. I haven’t seen him since.” She’s too focused on her pounding heartbeat to be sure, but she thinks Killian mutters “stupid bloke” under his breath. “To cut to the chase, it was a false alarm- no baby- and I spent Christmas by myself in that motel room with nothing to do but mourn what I’d lost, even the things I never really had.” 

 

A lone tear slips down her face as she gets to the whole reason she told him all of this in the first place. “There hasn’t been anyone since. A few quick flings here and there, but I’ve always been too scared of letting someone else break my heart all over again. When we were in the toy store the other day,” she goes on, the memory still vivid in her mind, “I couldn’t believe how excited you were about giving a good Christmas to kids you didn’t even know, and he took off and left at the prospect of his own. I decided to tell you all of this because it’s why I ran out like I did earlier.” She’s looking at him now, seeing what she knows is understanding in his eyes, rather than the judgment she’d normally expect. “What happened between us...that’s the first kiss I’ve had in over a decade that actually meant something. It scared the hell out of me, not only because I’ve come to care about you so quickly, but because it meant I was putting myself in a position where I could get hurt again. So, I left. Seems to be what I do best.”

 

Killian reaches over to wipe her tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle and soothing after she’s just poured her heart out to him. “Emma, I don’t know if me saying this helps at all, but you deserve so much better than what that bastard did to you.”

 

“So I’ve been told,” she shrugs. David and Mary Margaret have said the same thing over the years more times than she can count.

 

“Just hear me out, love. I know you have every right to be scared. It’s hard to let people in when your trust and your heart have been taken advantage of like that.” It’s not the first time she’s felt like he truly understands her. “But, Emma, I’ve come to care quite a bit about you as well during the few days we’ve spent together. If you’ll allow me, I’d love to make sure you finally get that Christmas you’ve always wanted, that you truly deserve. I don’t intend to let you down,” he adds, and she knows he’s not only talking about Christmas. 

 

He opens his mouth to say something else, but she leans over and cuts him off with a kiss. It’s different than their first one, softer and slower as their lips meet, but not without a bit of the passion that led them to this in the first place. Despite the mixed emotions she’d been flooded with, she finds herself smiling against his mouth as he kisses her again and again. He feels the way the corner of her lips turn up and leans back to look at her. “Swan...you’re okay with this? You’re happy?”

 

Of course she is. He’s gone above and beyond for her to prove he won’t go anywhere without even realizing it. He wants to give her a great Christmas and she wants to do everything she can to make him happy because he deserves it. They both do. She doesn’t just want to spend Christmas with him, but more holidays and possibly every other day in between. She tells him so and the smile she gets in return warms her heart.

 

And when Emma falls asleep with his arms around her that night, she doesn’t dread the thought of Christmas morning. She knows she won’t be spending it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Thoughts + feedback are always appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the first of what should be a 4-5 part story, depending on where my muse decides to go.  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Please leave a review if you have any thoughts :)


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